


Communism was just a red herring

by notallbees



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Consensual Underage Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Underage Drinking, the aphrodisiac effects of top gun on teenage boys, the nineties and everything it entails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4759370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the 90s, it's summer break, and Bucky is staying with Steve for two months while his parents travel to India. </p><p>It's shaping up to be the best summer ever until Steve's mom makes things weird by telling them that they're gay for each other. All of a sudden Steve is full of strange thoughts about his best friend, and Bucky will barely speak to him. All Steve wants is to make things right again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Communism was just a red herring

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guess what! I'm on [tumblr](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/), and there's fanart of this story [here](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/post/119309023551/assetsational-said-stucky-teenage-makeouts-on-a#notes) and [here](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/post/126370652817/from-that-90s-au-aka-the-thing-ive-been-writing#notes) :D 
> 
> There's also a ton of photo refs etc [under my tag here!](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/tagged/that-90s-au)

“Two months,” Steve whispers into the darkness. 

Bucky shuffles around next to him. “Two months!” he hisses in delight.

Steve grins at him in the dark. They haven’t seen each other all week since school let out; Bucky had to spend every minute with his parents before they went away, even if half that time was spent packing. 

Bucky rolls a little closer, moving to wrap his arm around Steve’s waist. He still smells of chlorine from the pool that afternoon; the scent always clings to him, no matter how many showers he takes, but Steve likes the familiarity of it. Bucky's arm is heavy on his stomach, but it's no wonder that he's tired considering that he swam over a mile today. 

"Impressed you're still awake," Steve mumbles, even though he knows Bucky snuck a candy bar only thirty minutes ago. He's got the metabolism of a fruit fly. 

Bucky makes a sleepy noise into his shoulder.

"Or not," Steve says, laughing under his breath.

"Am too," Bucky says, pushing his face into Steve's armpit. "Two whole months," he mumbles, his breath searing hot through Steve's t-shirt. 

Grinning wider, Steve shifts his arm and lets Bucky tuck up against him. "Two whole months," he agrees. "Whatcha wanna do?"

Bucky shrugs. "Sleep."

“If you sleep for two months, I’m getting a new best friend.”

“Right,” Bucky snorts. “Who’d want you?”

“Peggy would.”

Bucky huffs. “Yeah. Fair point.” He shifts around suddenly, jostling Steve several times until he gets comfortable. “’m I really your best friend?”

“Not dignifying that with an answer,” Steve mutters, closing his eyes and tucking his nose against Bucky’s hair. “Your ego’s big enough already.”

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

"Go to sleep, Buck."

 

 

The first week passes in a blur of sunshine and long, lazy afternoons. Steve’s mom is working nights and at the end of their first week they stay up half the night watching the entire Star Wars trilogy in Steve’s bedroom. 

They tumble down the stairs the next morning when Steve’s mom calls to them, shoving at each other to get ahead. When they’re almost to the kitchen, Bucky trips and fakes a stubbed toe to let Steve get in front. His overdramatic yowl of pain is so obviously feigned, Steve can’t help grinning; Bucky isn’t even _trying_ to be convincing, and Steve can spot him faking from a mile off anyway.

Sarah is plating up pancakes when they crash through the door, elbowing each other to get the nearest chair. The chair by the window has a wonky leg, and if you turn wrong, you end up flat on your ass. 

Thanks to Bucky’s ruse, Steve has enough of a head start to get to the good chair first. Rather than sit down right away, he pulls it out and gestures primly, but Bucky just shakes his head, the corner of his mouth quirking into a grin. Steve's not above kicking the chair out from under him, even in front of his mom, and Bucky knows it. He edges past instead, bumping Steve with his hip so that he slumps forward over the back of the chair, the wind rushing out of his chest with an _oof_. Steve reaches out to shove him in retaliation, but Bucky is ready for it, and he’s grinning when he catches Steve’s wrist.

"No roughhousing at the table," Steve's mom says sternly, turning from the stove with two plates piled high. She glares at them both until they sit down, Bucky perching warily on the edge of the wonky chair. “There, you _do_ know how to behave like civilized humans.” She sets their plates down and reaches over to ruffle Steve’s hair. 

“God, Mom,” he grouses, leaning out of her reach. She does the same to Bucky instead, who grins widely, showing off his braces. He’s supposed to get them off in the next six months, at least that’s what his orthodontist said on his last visit. Privately, Steve thinks it’s a shame; Bucky’s finally stopped being self-conscious about the way they look, and Steve thinks they kind of suit him. 

Doesn’t give him leave to be a jerk though. Steve sticks his tongue out at Bucky. “Suck-up.” Bucky just grins.

"You boys sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks Sarah," Bucky says with an angelic smile, or at least what he thinks an angelic smile should look like. As far as Steve is aware, Bucky doesn't have a huge frame of reference. While his mom is busy staring at Bucky like she wishes _she’d_ given birth to such a polite, well-groomed young man, Steve digs into his pancakes. 

"Steve?"

“Mm?” 

Sarah rolls her eyes at him. “You sleep well?”

Steve chomps down on a big mouthful of pancakes and banana slices and grins at her, honey dripping down his chin. "So good," he mumbles.

"Shut your whore mouth," Bucky drawls at him. "Nobody wants to see you chewing." He reaches over and wipes the honey off of Steve's mouth with his thumb, smearing it across his chin as he pulls away again.

"Watch the language," Steve's mom says, but there's not much bite to her voice, more just trying to keep up standards. 

Steve makes a face when Bucky pops his sticky thumb in his mouth and sucks it off, his eyes on Steve. “Gross,” Steve says fondly.

Sarah takes a seat in the empty chair and puts her chin on the heel of her hand. She does this sometimes, just sits and watches them with a contented smile, and Steve knows she's thinking _I did this, I made this little boy_ , because she says that kind of thing often enough, a lot of the time in public. Steve and Bucky exchange a _look_ and roll their eyes, and Steve's mom just sighs and says, "It's about time, you two."

Steve swallows his mouthful with a frown. "Time for what?"

"For you to figure out you like each other," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Don't worry," she adds quickly, before he or Bucky can point out that she's being really _weird_. Steve picks up his glass of chocolate milk and stares at her over the rim. "I won't make you talk about it, but I think Bucky ought to sleep in the guest room if you two are gonna start fooling around.” 

Steve glances at Bucky, but he’s not looking back. He’s just staring at Steve’s mom, his expression confused and closed off. “Uh, Mom, what’re you talking about?” Steve asks, before taking a gulp of his milk. 

Sarah huffs at him. “I _know_ you took health class, Steven. It’s perfectly normal for you to want to have sex, as long as you’re safe—”

Steve splutters chocolate milk everywhere. Literally fucking everywhere: all over the table, his pancakes, and Bucky's left arm.

"Mom!" he shouts, slamming the glass down. "What the _fuck_?"

"Hey, language!" she snaps, reaching around to cuff him on the back of the head. "What did I just say?"

"Mom!" Steve hisses, ducking away from her. "We're not—that's not—" He runs out of words, and he wants to look over at Bucky but he can't make himself, so he just glares at his mom instead with as much ire as he can muster.

She looks from his face, bright red with rage and indignance, to Bucky, and back again. Steve forces himself to follow her gaze; Bucky is staring down at his plate, his shoulders tense, chocolate milk soaking into his sleeve. "So, you aren't—" Sarah says haltingly.

"No, Mom, _Jesus_."

She presses her lips together and gets up from the table to grab a towel. "My mistake."

Bucky pushes his chair back. "I'm gonna clean up," he says, aiming for nonchalant, but there's still half of his pancakes left and the smile doesn't go to his eyes. He gets up and scuttles out of the kitchen, looking smaller than Steve would've thought he could.

Steve throws his fork down with a clatter. "What the hell, Mom?"

At least she must be feeling bad about it, because she doesn't tell him off this time for swearing. 

"I'm sorry, Steve," she says, her mouth turned down sadly. Steve just scowls at her. He hopes she _does_ feel bad. The look on Bucky's face—Christ, Steve wouldn't blame him if he just wanted to leave. "I got the wrong idea. But you know—"

She trails off and Steve glares at her. "What."

"You can tell me anything, sweetheart, that's all."

Steve pushes his chair back with a groan. "I know, Mom, jeez."

He leaves the rest of his breakfast and stomps upstairs to look for Bucky. He's not in Steve's room, but then Steve notices that the water's running in the bathroom, so he sits on his bed to wait. Eventually Bucky comes back, forcing a smile when he sees Steve waiting.

"Oh, hey."

"You okay?"

Bucky ignores him. “Can we get outta here?”

Steve shrugs. “Sure.”

They decide without actually discussing it to head to the lake again, walking most of the way in silence. Bucky doesn’t exactly seem to be sulking, but he also doesn’t seem to have a lot to say, and while they walk, Steve runs through about a million things in his head that he could say to make it better, but none of them are any good.

“My mom’s an idiot,” he says at last, even though it’s probably the worst thing he’s thought of, and it makes him feel guilty and disloyal.

“Nah, she’s okay.”

“She said we were gay.”

“She just wanted to help.”

Steve sighs. “I guess.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it,” Bucky says, taking on a lighthearted tone at last. He flings his arm around Steve’s shoulders, as if _Steve_ had been the one acting weird. “What’s so bad about being my boyfriend anyway?”

“Gross,” Steve says, pushing him off. “For one thing I know how much you fart in bed.”

“That’s just a treat because it’s _your_ bed.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot.”

Bucky’s good humor lasts until they get to the lake and find the beach crammed with families and spooning couples. “Gross,” he mutters. “This sucks, we should’ve gone to the mall.”

“You hate the mall," Steve reasons. "At least this way we can get cool."

"Yeah, but nobody's sucking face at the Gap," Bucky mutters, grimacing at a couple in their early twenties who are making out not far away. 

"Come on," Steve says quickly. "Let’s find somewhere to leave our stuff and get in the water.”

“Whatever,” Bucky says with a scowl, traipsing after him. He continues to be a pain in the ass while Steve finds them a clear spot, away from the noisier groups of kids and close to a pack of teenage girls sunning themselves in bikinis. “Why’d you pick here?” Bucky asks him in a waspish voice as Steve sets down his towel.

Steve scowls at him. “It’s near the water is all. Stop being a jerk."

“Oh, you weren’t interested in the local color?” Bucky says, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at the girls. 

“I thought _you_ would be.”

Bucky shrugs. “Right, you know where to find me then. Enjoy your swim.” He dumps his towel, strips off his t-shirt and plants himself in amongst the group of girls without asking. They seem affronted at first, but Bucky has a really irritating ability to integrate himself into pretty much any group of people without much effort. “Hey! I’m Bucky,” he says with an easy grin. “You guys got a frisbee?”

Steve glares at the back of Bucky's head. He doesn’t want to go swim around in the lake on his own, and Bucky has to know that, but he also doesn’t wanna sit around and listen while Bucky flirts with a bunch of dumb girls. He’ll probably go make out with them and Steve will be left kicking his heels in the sand. 

He waits a minute, fussing with his towel, but Bucky seems to have assimilated himself into the girls and is already telling them stories in an extravagant voice, so Steve folds his t-shirt, lays his glasses on top, and walks slowly down to the water. He’s not expecting Bucky to follow, but it’s still a disappointment when he doesn’t. 

Steve wades into the lake up to his waist and pauses to glance over his shoulder. Everything is just too blurry to make out details, but he thinks he spots Bucky stand up, showing off for his new fans. He turns away and swims around a little. Swimming on his own is something he usually avoids; no point of the lake is really that deep, but it’s unsettling to find shapes suddenly looming up at him out of the dark water. 

There are a lot of people splashing around near the sand, and more than once he gets cussed out for swimming into people, but he doesn’t feel comfortable straying too far on his own. He and Bucky have taken to exploring all the islands, inlets and less frequented spots around the edges of the lake, inspecting and mentally cataloguing what they find. It feels like the sort of thing they used to do as kids; exploration run wild, searching for places to build dens and trap animals and insects.

A group of younger kids splash past him, racing with wide-swinging arms and legs kicking up a huge spray. They kick water in his face and Steve splutters as he swallows a huge mouthful. He scowls at their blurry retreating forms and heads back to shore. It takes him a little while to find his things again; he swam further out than he meant to, and Bucky and the girls seem to have disappeared, so he’s grateful when he stumbles across his clothes, still folded neatly on the sand. The towel is warm and welcoming when he flops down, so he lies back and just stays there for a few minutes, gently cooking in the sun.

“Rogers!” Steve looks up in time to see Bucky striding towards him. When he gets close he leans down to snatch up Steve’s shirt, turning to shake the sand off it. “You’ll get burned, stupid.” He crouches down and turns the shirt over in his hands until he finds the neck hole, then forces it over Steve’s head. 

“God, Bucky!” Steve shouts, trying to fight him off. “What are you doing, I’m fine!”

“Your mom’s gonna kill me if I take you back all sunburned.”

“Since when do you care so much what my mom thinks?” Steve snaps, while Bucky grabs his wrist and wrestles it into a sleeve.

“Since she’s one of the nicest people I know.” Bucky gives up trying to dress him and cuffs him on the back of the head. “So quit being a jerk.”

“Ow, Bucky! Why is everyone hitting me today?”

“Because you’re being an asshole.”

“Screw you.”

“Screw _you_ ,” Bucky hisses, finally losing his patience. He jumps to his feet, kicking sand over Steve’s wet thighs. “I’ve had enough of this.”

“Bucky, wait—”

“Fuck off, Steve.”

Bucky grabs his stuff and storms off, leaving Steve to glare after him. Bucky has a hell of a stick up his ass, and Steve can’t help but think it must have something to do with what his mom said. He wishes Bucky would take it out on her instead of him; Steve just wants things to be normal between them. 

He decides to walk around the lake, pausing to peer in at all the secret spots they’ve spent a week discovering, half hoping to find Bucky in one of them, but all he finds is a few couples making out and some kids collecting lizards. No sign of Bucky. Eventually Steve gets bored, and he can feel that his cheeks and forearms are getting warm and pink from the sun, so it’s time to head home. 

 

 

When he walks in it seems like there’s nobody home, but when Steve goes upstairs to grab a cold shower, he overhears Bucky and his mom talking in low voices behind his bedroom door. He sets the shower running, then creeps up to peek through the open crack where they’ve left the door ajar. They’re sitting on his bed, talking in low voices, and as he watches, his mom puts her arm around Bucky’s shoulders and he leans into her with a miserable expression. 

Steve backs away and gets silently in the shower. He feels somehow guilty for seeing that, but also jealous that he wasn’t the one to comfort Bucky in whatever it is that’s upset him. He takes his time in the shower, until he’s shivering too much to keep going, then he climbs out and dries himself off quickly, taking care where there’s already heat coming up on his arms and the back of his neck. 

“Hey, Mom!” he yells as he stalks out of the bathroom in his towel. “We got any aloe gel?”

Bucky walks out onto the landing just as Steve fumbles his towel and has to grab it to stop it falling down. He looks Steve up and down once, then forces his eyes away. 

“Hey,” he mutters. 

“I looked for you,” Steve says, his voice a little cold and stiff, because if Bucky can’t even be bothered to look at him, why should _he_ make the effort?

“I just needed some space.”

Steve shrugs. “Hope you got it. I gotta put some clothes on.”

“Yeah,” Bucky mutters, edging out of the way. “Sure.” He clears his throat, and Steve hesitates in the doorway. “Uh, I can go home, if you don’t want me to stay.” He licks his lips and flicks his eyes to Steve’s room. “I mean, if you think it’ll be weird.”

Just like that, Steve’s annoyance crumbles. He takes two steps towards Bucky and pulls him into a clumsy, one-armed hug. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Laughing, Bucky tentatively hugs him back. “You sure?” he asks, his voice sounding so odd and shaky and unlike himself that Steve just lets go of the stupid towel and flings his other arm around Bucky, pulling him in tight. He can feel Bucky’s taut shoulders under his hands, the powerful muscles in his chest from swim training. Steve hugs him as hard as he can, hoping it’ll be reassurance enough for whatever is troubling him.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a minute, “but as soon as I stop hugging you, you’re gonna get an eyeful.”

“I won’t look,” Bucky says, laughing. “Not like you got anything I wanna see anyway, Rogers.”

Steve gives him one last quick squeeze, then he lets go quickly and grabs for his towel, not quite fast enough to hide it but, hey, Bucky’s seen him naked before. He’ll just have to deal. 

“You got burned after all,” Bucky says, disappointed, reaching out to poke Steve’s nose. “I told you to cover up.”

“Yeah, yeah, you know everything.”

“Hey, I gotta be right once in a while.”

“Idiot,” Steve mutters fondly. “I’m gonna get dressed, you hungry?”

Bucky blinks at him in surprise. “What?”

“We skipped lunch, dipshit. You wanna eat?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Steve says, before ducking into his room. He grabs a clean t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and dresses hurriedly. He’s surprised that Bucky didn’t find a girl to slink off with for the afternoon, but he’s pleased too. He wants to get past the awkwardness of the morning, and they’re not gonna do that by avoiding each other. His mom’s always told him never to turn his back on his problems, so if Bucky’s gonna be a problem, Steve’ll face him head on.

When he gets downstairs, his mom calls him into the kitchen and pushes him towards the fridge. “Why don’t you make yourselves some sandwiches?”

“What did you and Bucky talk about?”

She frowns at him. “Never you mind.”

“Mo-om,” he whines, “He’s my best friend!” 

“Then you should ask him yourself.”

“Fine.”

"I'm heading to bed now," she says reaching out to pull him closer by his shoulder. He inclines his head for a kiss. "Be nice to Bucky."

Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm always nice to him."

Sarah doesn’t reply, but she gives him a _look_ as she leaves the kitchen, glancing out of the window significantly. Steve follows her gaze and spots Bucky lying on his back in the grass, soaking up the afternoon sun like a lazy cat. It seems a little unfair that Bucky can catch as much sun as he wants, while Steve gets yelled at just for taking his shirt off. He thinks Bucky must be part lizard. 

“Hey,” he yells a few minutes later, stepping out into the yard barefoot with a plate of sandwiches and chips. Bucky sits up immediately and makes grabbing motions at the food. “Hold up,” Steve says, laughing at him. He pushes Bucky back with his bare foot. “You want, ah—cheese or PB&J?”

“Both,” Bucky says, grabbing at Steve’s shorts to drag him down onto the grass. “Did you find the Oreos, or did your mom hide them?”

Steve shrugs. “Think she hid them. She’ll let you have ‘em later though. You just gotta ask nice and she’ll do anything you want.”

Bucky makes an affirmative noise as he tucks into one of the peanut butter sandwiches. 

“Hey, Buck?”

“Mm?”

“What were you and Mom talking about upstairs?”

Bucky hesitates, before finishing his mouthful and swallowing carefully. “Nothin’ really. I asked if she thought I should go home.”

Steve smirks. “What’d she say to that?”

“Take a guess,” Bucky says with a grim smile. 

“I’m glad she talked you into staying.”

Bucky ducks his head, hiding a smile. “Sap.”

“Nope.” Steve grabs the remainder of Bucky’s sandwich from him. “Just nothing else to do around here.”

“Fucker,” Bucky laughs, pushing him over. They both collapse into giggles, and it's all fine, almost like back to normal, until Bucky takes a deep breath and starts speaking again. "Um, I am gonna sleep in the guest room though. I know your mom got it wrong, but it's still a little weird, sharing a bed and all."

Steve sits up feeling like his stomach just collapsed in on itself. "What? Just cause of what she said?"

Bucky winces. "We're not ten anymore, Steve. It got me thinking is all, don't you think it's kinda weird that we still share a bed even though we're older?"

"No," Steve says matter-of-factly. "Why would it be weird? We're not gay."

"Yeah, well, maybe that's what _makes_ it weird," Bucky says with a hint of exasperation. "Anyway, you kick."

"I do not!"

"Do too, Rogers."

"Do not."

"Do _too_." Bucky smirks. "I know all your secrets, stupid."

"Bastard," Steve mutters gleefully, flinging himself at Bucky and tackling him onto the grass. 

Laughing like some kind of evil genius, Bucky retaliates with his incomparable knowledge of Steve's most ticklish spots. Like always, he winds up getting kicked for his troubles, but at least it makes things a little less weird between them. 

 

 

After the disaster of the lake, they decide to go to the mall a few days later. It’s Bucky’s decision, but he still complains the whole time from the moment they get there. 

"I thought you wanted swim trunks," Steve whines, when they trail out of their third sportswear store without Bucky even looking. 

"I _do_ ," Bucky snaps at him. "They're all stupid."

"Buck—"

"Screw it, I'm not in the mood for this."

"Okay, okay," Steve says soothingly. "How about we get a shake? I could use a drink."

Bucky shrugs, but he starts to smile when Steve grabs his wrist and drags him in the direction of the shake stand. 

"You wanna share?" Steve asks, looking the menu over even though they always get the same thing. "I can't drink it all myself."

Bucky grins. "Sure."

"Peanut butter fudge?"

"What else?"

Steve turns around to order, but before he can open his mouth he hears someone yelling his name. 

"It's Stark," Bucky says without turning around. He leans over as Steve turns to greet him and orders the milkshake for them. 

"Rogers," Howard says in an abysmally poor imitation of a British accent. "Dashed good to see you, what? You too Barnes!" Bucky doesn't reply, and Howard glances over Steve's shoulder at Bucky's back. "Tut tut," Howard says, dropping his voice to a murmur. "Lover's tiff?"

"Shut up, Howard," Steve mutters, punching him in the shoulder. 

"True love never did run smooth—"

Steve groans. "Seriously, can it."

Stark laughs, the way he does when he thinks he's said something hilarious. "Lighten up, Rogers."

"Stark," Bucky says, turning around at last. Steve leans over for a sip of his drink, but Bucky pulls it out of his reach. "You don't want it," he says in a tight, dismissive voice. "It's got coffee in it."

Steve pulls a face. "Gross. You know I hate coffee."

Bucky shrugs. "Just wanted my own."

"Oh," Steve says, feeling strangely hurt. "Yeah, sure. I'll just get something, hold on."

Bucky and Howard walk off a little way, sniping at one another good-naturedly. Steve's given up trying to point out how much they actually have in common; it only seems to make Howard more determined and Bucky more annoyed. By the time he's got his shake, though, they're nonchalantly discussing plans for the following weekend. 

"Hey, Rogers," Howard says, waving him over. "You gonna come to this music festival?"

Steve glances at Bucky. "What music festival?"

"Some bands are playing up at the campsite this weekend," Howard says, shrugging. "Carter and Martinelli are going."

Bucky snorts. "Yeah, if you actually ask them." He looks over at Steve with a roll of his eyes. "He wants _you_ to ask Peggy."

Steve shrugs. "Sure, I can ask."

"Aw, c'mon, Stevie."

"Not my na-ame," Steve sing-songs. 

Howard groans. "Shit, fine, what do you want?"

Bucky sucks until his straw rattles. "You got some porn, right?"

"Bucky!" Steve hisses, looking over his shoulder. 

"And you gotta bring booze."

Howard waves his arm dismissively. "Already in hand, Barnes." He narrows his eyes at Bucky, then glances at Steve too. "Got a preference?"

Steve frowns. "For booze?"

"Porn," Howard says, looking impatient. 

"I dunno," Steve mutters, bewildered. He's never even _seen_ porn, not properly. Dirty mags, sure, and he saw some at a party once, but only through a doorway. It felt weird to watch it around other people.

"Just something classy, Stark, Jesus," Bucky cuts in. He drinks the last of his shake and tosses it into a nearby trashcan, the aim almost perfect. He slings his arm around Steve's shoulder. "C'mon, Stevie, your mom's waiting. Seeya, Stark."

Steve struggles out of his grip. "Dammit, Bucky, hold up."

Bucky's arm jostles him, and Steve's milkshake slips from his fingers and hits the floor. It explodes upwards, splattering him up to his thighs, and spilling out across the floor. "Fuck," Steve says viciously. "Jesus Christ, Bucky!"

"I didn't mean—shit, I'm sorry."

"You stupid shit," Steve snarls, picking his feet up and wincing at the milkshake soaking into his socks. "What'd you do that for?" 

"Steve, c'mon, it was an accident."

"Ugh, just be careful, can't you?" Steve says, showing. "I'm not a ragdoll, you can't just throw me around however you like."

Bucky's barely listening, trying to mop up some of the mess with a handful of paper napkins. "I'll get you another one" 

"I don't want another one," Steve says, aware that his voice is getting loud and shrill. He bends down to scrape the thick, cold liquid off his shins. "I didn't even want the first one, only you were being a _jerk_ , and—"

"Well, why did you even suggest it then?" Bucky snaps, getting to his feet again. 

"Uh, guys, I'm gonna catch you later," Howard says awkwardly, edging away from them.

"Maybe I just wanted you to stop acting like an asshole," Steve yells. 

Bucky throws up his hands. "Whatever, Rogers, have fun with your girlfriends." He casts a nasty look at Howard. "I'm out." 

He turns and storms away before Steve can say anything, and Steve is left there dripping and cold in a puddle of peanut butter ice cream. "Shit," he says, reaching up to rub his eyes with the back of his wrist. "That was my ride."

"So, wow," Howard says after a minute, walking a little closer, his hands jammed in his pockets. "You okay?"

"Fuckin' peachy," Steve snarls, accepting the napkins Howard holds out and scrubbing at his legs with them. His eyes are burning, but he's not gonna start crying, not here. "Fuck."

Howard whistles. "You need a ride home, Rogers?"

"No," Steve snarls, throwing the napkins into the trash. They miss and hit the floor with a _splat_. He sighs. "Shit. Could you please take me to Peggy's place?"

 

 

Because no day is ever quite normal in the Carter household, Peggy is cutting down trees with her mom in the yard, while Cassie is arranging the loose branches into something that might be an art installation or just a bonfire. Steve's first thought is that Peggy looks pretty good wielding a chainsaw, followed by relief that he came alone. Bucky would be having palpitations at the idea of Steve or Peggy within twenty feet of a chainsaw, even moreso if it's both of them. Steve feels a little spike of annoyance at Bucky, and spitefully wishes palpitations on him all the same. 

"Steve!" Peggy yells, spotting him before he can open the gate and come in. 

“Hi, Steven!” Peggy’s mom calls out, waving to him. 

Steve waves back. “Hi Louise, hey Cassie.”

“Hello, sweetheart!”

Meanwhile, Peggy has set the chainsaw down and taken off her goggles. "Where the fuck have you and Tweedletwat been?" she says, striding over to him. "Too busy snogging in your treehouse?"

Steve's gut churns. "Fuck, not you too," he groans.

Peggy starts to laugh, but then she catches his expression and stops herself. "Oh, Steve, I'm only teasing—"

"Yeah well I don't wanna talk about Bucky, alright?" 

She frowns. "C'mon, I need a drink," she says, leading him into the house. 

Peggy makes them cherry cola floats and they go upstairs and lounge on her bed while Steve complains about Bucky. He really meant it when he said he didn’t wanna talk about Bucky, but as soon as he starts, he can’t seem to stop. Peggy listens quietly while he tells her about his mom’s mistake, and the way Bucky’s been acting ever since. He’s mid-rant, listing every stupid thing Bucky’s said to him, when he realizes that Peggy’s adopted a dubious expression. 

“What.”

“Oh, nothing,” she says airily, clinking a spoon into her glass to fish out some ice cream. “Tell me more about how big bad Bucky hurt your feelings?”

Steve scowls at her. “What the fuck, Peg?”

She shrugs at him. “Alright, alright, I didn’t say he wasn’t being a jerk. He’s _clearly_ being a massive jerk, but there must be a reason.”

“I guess,” Steve mutters. “Why won’t he just tell me?”

Peggy stares at him for a moment, then she reaches out and flicks him in the forehead. 

“Ow!”

“Why don’t you just _ask him_?” 

“Why don’t _you_ ,” Steve grouses, rubbing at the sore spot on his forehead. “You’re trigger happy, Carter.”

“That’s why we’re best friends.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “No, that’s why you’re Judo Varsity Captain. We’re friends because you don’t want anyone knowing how bad you are at blowjobs.”

Peggy hits him. “Touché, but fuck you.”

 

 

Peggy’s moms both beg him to stay for dinner, and when Steve gets home that night, Sarah has already gone to work. She usually leaves him a note, and sure enough there's one stuck to the front door.

_S,_

_Whatever it is this time, **fix it**. I can't take another six weeks of you two at each other's throats like this. _

_Dinner's in the oven, and there's a movie to watch if you don't want to **talk** to each other._

_Love,  
Mom_

Steve sighs and lets himself in. The door sticks and he has to wrestle with it a little to get it open. By the time he wins, Bucky is already waiting for him on the other side. 

"I'm sorry," Bucky says, before Steve can even open his mouth. He's wearing his swim hoodie, the sleeves pulled down over his fingers so he can fidget with the ragged ends. His bottom lip is bitten to shreds and he looks _thoroughly_ miserable. "Your mom said you were at Carter's place?"

Steve shrugs. "Wanted to get my Sega games back."

Bucky attempts a smile. "She give ‘em up without a fight?" 

"Bucky—" Steve sighs heavily. "I can't—I need to know what's going on. Have I done something?"

"No, no," Bucky says quickly, his face taking on a hunted expression. "It was me, I was being a jerk, I'm sorry. Stark just pisses me off is all, we rub each other the wrong way."

Steve squares his shoulders. "So that's all it is?"

Bucky nods. "I swear."

Sighing again, Steve turns away and kicks off his sneakers. "Fine. I'm gonna eat, I'm starving."

Bucky trails him into the kitchen and leans against the counter while Steve fetches a plate of his mom's chicken casserole out of the oven. 

"You eat already?" 

"Yeah," Bucky says, though he eyes Steve's food hungrily. "Your mom left us chips and stuff, though."

Steve pushes his plate towards Bucky. "You have it. Not hungry."

Bucky frowns. "You just said you were."

"I changed my mind," Steve snaps. 

"Stevie," Bucky pleads, his voice soft and hurt. "C'mon, I said I was sorry." He takes half a step closer and nudges Steve with his elbow. "Hey, c'mon, don't be mad. How about we share?"

It's on the tip of his tongue to tell Bucky to go screw himself, _So now you want to share?_ , but he holds himself back. "Okay," he says, his voice softening. "Mom said she rented a movie, you wanna watch it?"

Bucky nods, flushing a little as the tension on his face breaks into a grateful smile. Steve grabs his food and they go get themselves comfortable on the couch. 

"You have fun with Carter?" Bucky asks, when neither of them can be bothered to fast forward past the previews. He reaches over and snags a piece of chicken. 

Steve glares at him half-heartedly. "Sure," he says, nudging the plate towards Bucky. "Where did you get off to?" 

Bucky shrugs. "Nowhere."

"Uh huh." 

Bucky looks at him sidelong. "What?"

Steve just looks back to the TV. "Whatever, dude. Let's just watch the movie."

His mom rents him a movie at least once a week when she has to work; she says it’s part of his education, and by now Steve has seen a pretty respectable selection of classic cinema. He usually watches them with either Bucky or his mom, or both. This one, though, is new to him.

“Wait,” Bucky says, when the credits start. 

Steve leans over to flick the light off. “What?”

“Clue? Is this that movie based on the board game?”

“Oh, god,” Steve groans, slumping back in his seat. “You’re totally right. What the hell, Mom?”

Bucky laughs. “Nah, it might be okay.”

For the first ten minutes, they’re both calmly unaffected by what’s going on. At one point Steve is sure that Bucky is watching him, but when he turns to look, Bucky’s eyes are on the screen. 

“Man, Tim Curry’s really phoning it in,” Bucky says eventually, even though he’s just been giggling at the running joke with the dog poop. 

Steve gives him a half-assed kick. “It’s not _that_ bad.”

Bucky shoves him back. “ _You’re_ that bad.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Steve says with a snort. He puts his empty plate aside and Bucky pulls a bag of chips from beside the couch. Just then, Mr Green spills his soup everywhere and Steve bursts out laughing. 

“What? What?” Bucky says, whirling around. “I missed it, what happened?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Too late.”

“Aw come on, Stevie, can’t you rewind it?”

“Nope,” Steve says, grabbing the remote and shoving it down his pants. “Shut the fuck up already.”

Bucky looks a mixture of amused and outraged. “Steve!”

Steve folds his arms and shakes his head smartly. “You want it, you can come and get it.”

It’s the sort of shit they pull with each other all the time, and Steve doesn’t even realize what he’s said until he looks up and Bucky is watching him with a strange expression. Steve opens his mouth to take it back, to say something else, but he doesn’t get a chance before Bucky pounces on him. 

“No!” Steve yells, laughing as Bucky tackles him off the couch. They land on the carpet in a heap, both gasping as the breath is knocked out of both their lungs. Steve tries to wriggle away, but Bucky is mostly on top and he’s way too good at finding Steve’s ticklish spots. He grabs Steve around the middle when he tries to crawl away, jabbing his fingers into his hips.

“Get back here, Rogers,” Bucky growls, still laughing, and tugs him so that he flips over. 

Steve’s aware of the movie playing over his head, but right now he’s far more conscious of Bucky’s face hovering eight inches above his own; of the way his legs are pinned under Bucky’s weight; the remote digging into his thigh and almost crushing his balls. He tries to shuffle, just to get comfortable, but Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder and presses him against the floor. 

“Gimme that remote,” he says, mock-threatening. 

“Buck, get off,” Steve groans, shoving up with his hips. 

Bucky’s eyes narrow slightly, his gaze heavy. It’s getting too much for Steve, especially with the way the remote is slowly strangling his balls. He tries to roll over and throw off Bucky’s weight, but he only gets halfway before Bucky pins him again. 

“Fine,” Bucky says quietly, moving his hand to Steve’s belly and slipping it into his loose jeans. “I’ll get it myself.”

Steve makes an indignant sound and a half-assed attempt to throw Bucky off again, but mostly he’s too busy thanking god that he doesn’t have a boner right now. Bucky’s fingers touch the top of his inner thigh, just an inch shy of the remote, and rub gently. He presses down with the heel of his hand on Steve’s hip, massaging over the top of his thigh. 

Bucky sighs quietly. “Steve,” he whispers.

“What the fuck,” Steve snaps, finally pushing him off.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says quickly, scrambling away from him. “Sorry, sorry.”

“The fuck’re you groping my leg for?” Steve grouses, yanking the remote out of his pants and tossing it to Bucky. “There, we’ve missed loads now anyway.”

Bucky looks confused. “I wasn’t—uh, I mean—just trying to distract you.” He grins. “Worked, didn’t it?”

“Whatever,” Steve says, throwing himself back onto the couch and grabbing the bag of chips. “Just put the movie back on.”

“Hold on, I gotta pee.”

Bucky’s a long time in the bathroom, but Steve’s good enough not to mention it. He just gets the movie back to the right place and eats most of the chips so that Bucky’ll have to go fetch the other snacks himself. He puts the weird thigh grab out of his mind.

 

 

They choose the next morning to ask for permission to go to the campsite on Saturday. Both of them know that Sarah probably won’t say yes, not given the high likelihood of there being drugs, alcohol and other temptations present, but just as Steve was falling asleep he had a brilliant idea for convincing her. He explains it to Bucky over breakfast, and practically has to sit on him to keep him quiet when Sarah comes back in from hanging the laundry in the yard. 

“What’s going on here?” she asks, eyeing them both suspiciously. Steve slides back into his seat, trying to look nonchalant. “Steven, you know there’s no roughhousing at my table.”

“Nothing, ma’am,” Bucky says brightly, which is suspicious enough in itself. Steve elbows him and Bucky yelps, which gets the two of them thrown out of the kitchen. 

“Okay, as soon as she comes inside from hanging the rest of the laundry,” Steve whispers, before scooting up the stairs.

The devilish plan, such as it is, involves Bucky’s acting skills and a bottle of ketchup. With his artist’s eye, Steve carefully arranges Bucky at the foot of the stairs and Bucky jams a huge pair of kitchen scissors between his chest and his arm. Then, Steve squirts ketchup all over Bucky’s white t-shirt.

“Ease up, stupid,” Bucky hisses after a minute. Steve squirts some ketchup in his mouth and Bucky splutters with laughter, spraying ketchup all over himself. 

“That’s good,” Steve whispers through his giggles. “Good blood spatter.”

The next time Sarah walks into the house, she’s halfway through yelling for Steve to tidy his bedroom when she suddenly screams, and breaks it off in the middle to start yelling again. 

“You little bastards,” she shouts, disregarding her own rules about swearing as Bucky disappears, giggling, up the stairs to join Steve. “James Barnes, there’s ketchup all over my hardwood floor!”

The pranks become more and more elaborate as the week progresses; they use the leftover plaster from Steve’s school art project to make replicas of their hands, which they paint and bury in Sarah’s vegetable garden. That earns them a week of doing the dishes. 

They watch _Clue_ at least three more times and spend an entire day speaking only in quotes from the movie. Sarah can’t exactly punish them for that one, but she does start correcting Steve every time he misquotes. Bucky is like a parrot for movie quotes, Steve not so much. 

Steve’s favorite prank is when they get in Sarah’s bed while she’s brushing her teeth in the bathroom. They lie next to one another under the sheets, pressed so close that Steve can feel Bucky breathing, both of them lying as flat as they can and trying not to laugh. Sarah comes back into the room, humming softly under her breath, and Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand and counts down softly from three. They both leap out, screaming, and they’re both completely terrified and impressed when Sarah goes immediately for the baseball bat in the corner of the room.

“You assholes!” she yells once she realizes it’s them—thankfully before she starts swinging. “I literally just peed myself—get the hell out of here and get to bed!” 

“Gross, Mom!”

“Sorry, Sarah!”

“I’ll get you back for this, Steve!”

By the time Saturday rolls around, Sarah is _begging_ them to go out. 

"Shotgun!" Bucky yells as soon as Angie's car rolls up outside Steve's house. 

"You can't call shotgun if there's already someone in it," Steve says, rolling his eyes. 

Still, as soon as car stops, Peggy climbs out and pulls the seat forward so she can shimmy into the back seat. "Come on, Rogers," she tells, waving him over. "Your boyfriend needs this seat more than we do!"

"Don't give him ideas," Steve grouses, glancing at Bucky before clambering in after her. 

Trying to circumvent any more arguing, Angie puts on her Joan Jett cassette at full volume, and she and Bucky sing along at the top of their lungs. They were in choir together in freshman and sophomore years, and now they take great delight in singing anything their music teacher would disapprove of. 

"I still can't believe your mom let you come, Steve," Angie says after a couple of songs. Bucky’s still going, leaning his head out of the window like an overexcited dog. 

Steve smirks. "Yeah, well, we annoyed her into agreeing."

Bucky starts laughing. "I feel kinda bad, but we pretty much just acted like total shits until she couldn't bear to have us in the house anymore."

"One of my finer plans," Steve agrees, "even if the execution was sloppy."

Clutching at his imaginary pearls, Bucky gasps and turns a look of supreme betrayal on him. “ _Sloppy_? I’ll give you sloppy, Rogers, you traitor.”

“Hey, hey!” Angie yells, whacking Bucky on the shoulder. “Not while I’m driving!”

They simmer down, though Steve occasionally reaches around the edge of the passenger chair to poke Bucky’s ribs, and Bucky once or twice reaches back behind him to pinch Steve’s calf, but on the whole they make it to the campground without any major incidents. All four of them spill out of the car with widening smiles, and when Bucky grabs hold of Steve’s arm to point something out to him and doesn’t take his hand away again, Steve feels warmth scurry down his spine. 

Howard is waiting for them near the gate at the edge of the parking lot, chattering away to a couple of unfamiliar girls. Steve’s always amazed at Howard’s ability to attract a flock of cute girls with seemingly no effort, though he’s not so talented at keeping them around. That at least gives Steve some hope. 

Bucky sticks way too close to him for the entirety of the long, sticky evening. At least the sun is low enough by the time they go out that he’s not chasing Steve to cover up the whole time, so apart from feeling sweaty and crowded, it’s kinda nice to have him so close again after the weirdness of the past couple of weeks. Plus, as soon as Howard pulls out the booze, he stops noticing. 

They’re four bands, three big bags of chips and most of a bottle of vodka down when Howard suggests that they play Spin the Bottle. Everyone groans and rolls their eyes, except the girl to Howard’s left who’s been hanging off his every word. 

Bucky, already leaning on Steve’s right arm, leans close and his hot alcoholic breath warms Steve’s cheek. “This sucks,” he murmurs, low and annoyed in Steve’s ear. “Wanna bail?”

Steve pushes him off with a laugh. “Don’t be a wuss, Barnes.”

“Yeah, c’mon, Bucky,” Angie calls out. “It’ll be fun!”

"Okay," Howard says, planting himself down between the two girls he brought along. "Let's get started."

"Are we really playing this stupid kid’s game?" Bucky whines. 

Steve glares at him. "What? Afraid you'll have to kiss someone you don't wanna?"

Bucky just rolls his eyes in response, although Steve seems to be the only one who notices. Everyone else is watching Peggy chug the last inch of a bottle of vodka before tossing the empty to Howard.

"Nice work, Carter," he says, looking dazzled. He flips the bottle in the air, spraying himself with leftover vodka, then sets the bottle down in the middle of the circle. "The rules are as follows—"

"We know the rules, idiot," Angie says in a bored tone. "We've all been going to the same parties since middle school."

Howard casts a helpless look at Steve, who just shrugs, then Howard grabs the bottle and spins. "First player then." The bottle spins, then rolls around to point at Bucky.

"Barnes, you're up."

Bucky rolls his eyes again, but he's suppressing a grin when he reaches for the bottle to set it spinning. It lands on Peggy, who laughs and lifts her hand for him to kiss. They play escalation rules, normally; it starts with hand, cheek, mouth, and proceeds to frenching if you're lucky (or unlucky) enough to land on someone that many times. He and Bucky have been as far as a peck the mouth once, but it never meant anything. 

But when he thinks about kissing Bucky now, it feels different. It doesn't feel like something they'll laugh off while everyone teases and catcalls.

"Wake up, Steve!" someone yells, and he looks up to find the bottle pointing at him and Peggy grinning wickedly. 

"C'mere, kiddo," she says, reaching out to take his hand. 

Steve offers it with a little self-deprecating laugh, giggling at Peggy when she plants a big smacking kiss on his palm. He curls his hand in and presses it to his heart, making Peggy snort with laughter. 

Steve's first spin gets him Peggy again, and the game goes on for the next ten or fifteen minutes, moving around the circle with lots of raucous laughter and whistling. Another full bottle is making its rounds too, and Steve gets away with two tiny sips of sweet, anise-flavored liquid that makes his throat burn. He and Bucky have snuck drinks before, but only beer, and one time that Bucky's dad let them have whiskey. He can't help noticing that when the bottle reaches Bucky, he drinks a lot. He also can't help noticing every time Bucky ends up at the other bottle's mercy. 

Steve barely even notices his own contributions to the game: a peck exchanged with each of the girls Howard brought over; a lingering kiss with Howard that makes Bucky roll his eyes and look away. The one time Bucky's spin lands on Steve that he can't argue his way out of, Bucky grabs Steve's hands and licks his palm. 

"Aw, gross," Steve yells, though he doesn't yank his arm back. Some shivery, traitorous post of him wants Bucky to keep going, to lick all the way up to his shoulder and put his mouth on the side of Steve's neck. Bucky stares at him for a moment before dropping his hand with a snort. 

"Be grateful for the action, Rogers," he says, sharing a giggle with the girl to his left. 

Steve scowls at him. "Yeah, thanks a lot," he mutters. He spins the bottle hard, and it rolls around to land on Bucky. 

"And Martinelli has it!" Bucky yells, slapping Angie on the shoulder. True, the bottle is only just pointing to Bucky's knee, almost reaching Angie, but not quite. 

"Get fucked, Barnes," she says, punching him before turning back to talk to Peggy. 

Steve sticks his jaw out. "Got a problem?"

Bucky heaves a sigh. "Just seems pointless to keep kissing _you_ , I can do that anytime." Still, he turns his cheek, and Steve leans forwards across the circle to kiss it. 

Just to spite Bucky, he makes it long and soft and lingering, right by the corner of his mouth. Bucky's skin has a faint hint of soft stubble. Steve can feel the tension of Bucky trying not to react. It makes him feel slightly sick. It wouldn't be like this if his mom had never brought up the idea of them being gay. He and Bucky have always slobbered affection on each other like contented puppies, but now it feels forbidden and dirty. 

When he sits back, Bucky is watching his face with wide eyes, but he quickly changes it to a scowl and looks away. 

"Keep it in your pants, Rogers, jeez," Peggy whispers in his ear. 

Steve makes a face. "He's being weird," he hisses. "Don't you think he's being really weird?"

Peggy gives him a withering look. "If you say so."

It goes on for a little longer until eventually one of the girls drifts away from the circle with Howard to make out in her car, and the other goes to rejoin her friends. 

"Well, thank fuck that's over," Angie says, scrubbing her mouth with her sleeve. She and Bucky just had to make out in front of everyone, but they both seem totally blasé about it. Steve's envious of how easy they handle it. He doesn't really want Bucky to shake it off like that with _him_.

"Wait," Bucky says, grinning lazily. "At least let me take my last turn." 

Peggy and Steve both start to protest, but Angie shrugs and pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. "Fine, whatever, he needs the practise."

Bucky snorts but doesn't argue—he's learnt his lesson better than Howard that arguing with Angie or Peggy will only end in humiliation. The bottle has rolled over to Steve’s side of the circle, resting just by his left knee, and Bucky gestures for it without looking at him. 

“Rogers, you mind?” He holds his hand out, but he’s looking away, avoiding Steve’s eyes. Steve hesitates, and eventually Bucky does turn to look at him. He waves his hand impatiently. “What, you don’t wanna play no more?”

Steve glances at Angie, who’s leaning back on her elbows and smoking, then at Peggy, who makes a loser sign at him with her fingers. 

“Fine, whatever,” Steve mutters, slapping the bottle into Bucky’s palm. 

He should’ve guessed how it would go. Bucky flips the bottle from one hand to the other before dropping it in the middle of them and spinning it. At first it skids off kilter and Peggy has to rescue it from under her jacket. The neck of the bottle was pointing to Steve’s toes, but nobody mentions that. 

Bucky spins again. The bottle lands facing Steve, dead on. 

“Wait,” Bucky says quickly. “I did that wrong, lemme just—”

Peggy sighs. “Right, that’s it, I’ve had enough. Come on, Granny Ange.” Peggy gets to her feet and grabs hold of Angie’s wrist to pull her up after. She points to her jacket next, and Steve throws it to her. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she says, then points a threatening finger in Bucky’s direction. “You better not chicken out of this, Barnes. I’ll _know._ ”

Steve and Bucky both watch them walk away into the crowd, clutching at one another while they whisper and laugh about something. Finally, Steve can’t bear the tension anymore, and he dares a glance at Bucky’s face. Of course, Bucky isn’t watching him either. He’s got his head down, eyes on the ground between them so that his hair is obscuring most of his face. 

“She’s just kidding,” Steve says awkwardly. “We, uh—we don’t have to—”

“I know,” Bucky says, a little too fast. He looks up quickly, grinding his bottom lip between his teeth for a second before speaking again. “Not like there’s any point us making out if nobody’s gonna see anyway.”

Steve licks his lips nervously. “I—I don’t mind trying it.” He attempts a smile, but if comes off feeling weak and empty. “I mean, I kissed everyone but the only person I got to suck face with is Howard, and I don’t think that—”

“Forget it,” Bucky says, cutting off Steve’s babble and getting to his feet. Steve scrambles to follow him. “It’s no fun with two.”

“Isn’t that the point of kissing?” Steve jokes. “More fun with two?”

Bucky turns on him, pushing out a frustrated sigh. “If you _like_ the person, yeah.” Steve flinches back like he’s been slapped, but Bucky’s already striking out ahead in search of Peggy and Angie, and he doesn’t notice. 

Steve’s more or less silent for the rest of the night. They have no luck finding the others, and eventually they hitch halfway home with some college kids and walk the rest. Bucky chatters away with them, even though they’re stoned and talking shit, while Steve just shoves himself into the corner and ignores them all. To his relief, Bucky doesn’t even _try_ and speak to him on the way home. Steve wouldn’t know what to say to him if he did. 

He goes straight to his room when they get home, but even though he’s exhausted, he can’t seem to fall asleep. A part of him thinks maybe he can hear Bucky tossing and turning on the other side of the wall, but he tells himself he’s imagining it, until he hears Bucky get up. 

The floor outside Steve’s bedroom creaks, and there’s a long pause for almost a minute before Bucky finally pushes the door open and steps inside. 

“Steve?” he whispers.

Steve says nothing, but Bucky doesn’t leave. He tiptoes over and crawls into the bed behind Steve. “Stevie? You awake?”

“No,” Steve mumbles crossly without turning over.

Bucky wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulder. “You mad at me?” Steve just shrugs, which is answer enough for Bucky. “Aw, Stevie, I’m sorry. Tell me what I did?”

“You know what you said, asshole,” Steve mutters. 

“Ste—ve,” Bucky whines, tucking his face against the back of Steve’s neck. It’s too hot to be so close and Bucky smells of booze and smoke, but even though Steve’s still fuming, it feels good to have Bucky at his back again. “I’m sorry,” he says in a low voice. “I bet you’ll be great, when you find someone you like.”

Steve nods, holding himself still so that he doesn’t wriggle back into the overwhelming, comforting heat of Bucky’s body. Bucky seems content just to hold onto his arm, snuggled up not quite close enough to be spooning, but close enough that Steve’s getting too hot under his comforter. He waits, and waits, but Bucky doesn’t say any more, and eventually Steve accepts that _he’s_ going to have to break this ice. He takes a deep breath. 

“But— _you_ like me, right?”

There’s a long pause before Bucky finally answers. “Of course I like you, dude.” He laughs. “Stupid, you’re my best friend.”

“I know, Buck,” Steve says, trying to sound calm and nonchalant. “Wasn’t asking you to get married.” He forces a laugh. “It was just Spin the Bottle, yeah?”

Bucky sighs softly against Steve’s neck. “You’re mad because I wouldn’t kiss you?”

Steve shrugs again. “I know you’d give _me_ shit for pulling that.”

“Probably,” Bucky whispers. “Sorry.” 

They’re both quiet again for several long minutes. Steve is just starting to think that Bucky must have fallen asleep, when he finally speaks again, so quiet that Steve does almost miss it. 

“We—we still can, if you want?” Steve freezes, and Bucky nudges his arm gently. “Stevie?” Bucky lifts his head a little. “Hey, did you fall asleep?” 

To his own shame, Steve says nothing. After a few more minutes of silence, Bucky gets up and goes back to his own bed.

 

 

They're both a little hungover the next day. Mrs Rogers has less than no sympathy for them, chivvying them out of bed way too early and forcing them to help her with the chores. Bucky is annoyingly cheerful despite his headache, whereas Steve just feels like he wants to die, even though he drank way less than anyone else.

"Hurry up, sweetheart!" his mom yells up the stairs when Steve is struggling down them with the overflowing laundry basket. 

"Hurry up yourself," Steve grumbles under his breath. "Fuck." The basket is starting to slip out of his arms, but he hasn't got enough reach to grab it. "Aw, fuck, fuck—"

"I got it!" Bucky yells, darting out of the kitchen to help. He's wearing rubber gloves and the front of his shirt is soaked with suds from doing the dishes; Steve might laugh at him if he wasn't so annoyed. Bucky gets hold of the basket and helps maneuver it back into Steve's arms. "Hold on," Bucky says when Steve starts to move again. He bends down to grab a pair of his boxers from the bottom step and drapes them carefully over Steve's head. 

"Thanks a lot," Steve says, smirking at him. 

"Steve! Where's that laundry?"

Bucky grins and steps back out of his way. "After you," he says, gesturing with a grin. As Steve steps down too, Bucky touches his shoulder, and Steve shudders a little at the touch of the wet glove on his neck. "Hey," he whispers, "wanna get out of here?"

Steve bites his lip. "I think we're kinda grounded."

"Aw, come on, we don't have to be gone all day."

"Steven!"

"Gotta go," Steve says, moving away from him.

Bucky grabs his arm. "Just, when she asks what we did yesterday? Tell her we played Spin the Bottle."

"What? Why?" Steve asks, frowning. He'd expected Bucky to pretend it had never happened.

Bucky shoos him. "Later."

By the time Steve gets downstairs with the laundry Sarah looks _mightily_ unimpressed. 

"Where have you _been_?" she asks him, hands on her hips. "Did you hear me calling?" She looks a little worried now, and Steve feels suddenly guilty for making her think there might be something wrong.

"Yeah, yeah I did," he says quickly. "Sorry, I was talking to Bucky. "

"Uh huh. Well save a little space up there for your mother, okay?" she teases, reaching out to tap his forehead. 

"Yeah, Mom," he says with an exaggerated eyeroll. "Hey, uh, can Bucky and I go out later?"

She eyes him suspiciously. "Oh yeah? After last night, you think I'm letting you just do whatever you want?"

"Aw, c'mon, Mom," Steve pleads, fluttering his eyelashes in a way Bucky says makes him look at least halfway innocent. "We only drank a little, and the worst we did was play Spin the bottle with Peggy and Ange."

Sarah looks slightly surprised. "Oh you did, huh?" 

Steve nods, wishing he knew where this was going. "Please, Mom? I promise we're just gonna go see Peggy and maybe go to Target and then we'll come right back." 

"Alright," she says at last, giving him a shrewd look. "But you boys can make yourselves useful and pick up some groceries while you're out."

"Of course! Steve says agreeably. "We can totally do that. Mom, you're the best." 

She sighs and lifts her arm to accept the hug. "I know, I know. Come on, I'll write you a list."

"Hey, Buck?" Steve asks a little later when they're driving back from Walgreens on the other side of town. 

"Uh huh?"

"What's the plan with my mom? You want her to think we made out or something?"

Bucky laughs and gives him an awkward shrug, one hand on the wheel. "I dunno, I thought it would be funny if she thinks we really are doing that after all. And she totally went for it too, you know she'd never have let us go out today if she didn't think we were sneaking off to suck face."

Steve looks away from him with an uneasy chuckle. "I dunno, I think she'll figure it out pretty quick. She usually knows when I'm lying."

"Wouldn't be a lie if I just parked up in one of these side streets, Rogers."

"Yeah," Steve says, snorting with laughter. " _That's_ what we're gonna do."

Bucky grins. "Well, actually—" He puts on his turning signal then, taking them left onto a residential street and parking up behind a beaten up jeep. He kills the engine and turns to Steve expectantly.

Steve's stomach jumps, his eyes moving instinctively to Bucky's parted lips. "Uhh—"

"I gotta collect something. Wait here, I won't be long."

Steve sinks into his seat, relieved and disappointed. "Oh, okay." He peers out at the street. "Doesn't Howard live nearby?"

"Yup." Bucky grins. "And he owes me." 

Bucky scrambles out of the car, and Steve almost goes after him except that it occurs to him what happens every time Howard and Bucky spend more than ten seconds together. He’s not in the mood for breaking up another fight, or putting up with Howard’s teasing, and maybe if he sits tight then Bucky will come back faster. Rather than wait in silence, Steve roots in the glovebox for one of Bucky’s cassette tapes and jams it into the tape deck. The radio doesn’t work but it still plays tapes, which is just as well when Bucky has so many mix tapes. Steve chooses a tape at random, and it starts up halfway through a Soundgarden song that Bucky sings all the time. 

Steve sits alone, tapping his fingers on his thigh, for two and a half songs before Bucky comes back. He’s grinning when he climbs back into the driver’s seat, and he slings a grocery bag over his shoulder onto the backseat. 

“Well?” Steve says, when Bucky starts the engine without a word. 

Bucky grins at him. “Well what?”

“Well, what’s in the bag? C’mon, Buck, what’s with all the mystery?”

Normally Bucky might drag it out, make him guess, but this time he just laughs and glances over at Steve briefly. “I bargained Stark for some porn, remember?”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Oh, yeah.” He glances behind. “Make sure that doesn’t get mixed up with the bags from Walgreens. I mean, Mom definitely knows we’ve seen dirty pictures before, but if she gets her hands on that, I’m dead.”

“I’ll be careful,” Bucky says, laughing again. “And we could say it’s mine if she did find it.” He pauses and makes a face at Steve in the mirror. “Though she’d probably wanna call my parents.”

“Aw, Mom wouldn’t do that.”

Bucky shrugs. “My mom might put her up to it.”

Steve lets out a derisive snort. “Yeah right. I mean, sure she likes your mom, but she wouldn’t do something just ‘cause your mom said so.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Bucky says quietly. “Forgot you had to get that from somewhere.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve mutters, turning to hide his smile by staring out of the window.

 

 

“You wanna watch something?” Bucky asks a couple of days later, rolling over and knocking Steve’s house of cards down. The rain has kept them inside all morning and they’ve run out of stuff to do. In a word, they’re bored. 

“Dammit, Bucky!”

Bucky smothers a giggle. “Sorry. But listen, you know I got that porno from Stark—”

“Aw, Buck, I dunno,” Steve says, pulling a face. 

“Nah, come on,” Bucky says, elbowing him. “He promised me it’s good.” 

“Get off,” Steve hisses, and jabs him back. 

Unperturbed, Bucky throws an arm around his neck and ruffles his hair. “C’mon buddy, don’t wuss out on me.”

“Alright, alright,” Steve grumbles, letting Bucky mess up his hair, “but not while my mom’s home.”

“Duh. I want her to keep believing I’m a good influence.”

Steve makes a derisive snort. “Pretty sure she never believed that.”

“Whatever, I’m totally her favorite.”

“She only says that so you’ll behave,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. 

When Sarah leaves for work after dinner, the two of them wait until she's driven away before they scramble to the den. 

Bucky puts the movie on, and he and Steve clamber into their usual positions on the couch; one at either end with their legs tangled in the middle. At first there's just a bunch of static, then a movie starts halfway into the opening credits. It's The Neverending Story. Steve sits up with a scowl.

"Bucky—"

"Shhh, just wait," Bucky says, shoving Steve back down with a foot on his chest. "Said he recorded it after the start of a movie, so it wouldn't look suspicious if his parents found it."

Steve relaxes back into the cushions. "Oh, okay."

There's about ten minutes of the movie, just enough for Steve to wish they were watching that instead, when the picture flickers and another image overlays. 

"Finally," Bucky says, and Steve peers around their bent knees to see his expression. Part of him thinks that if Bucky wanted to see it so badly he could've just fast forwarded, but he doesn't say anything. 

On the screen a woman in a tiny nightgown answers her door to a burly workman, who proceeds to pull off his shirt and start flexing around with a wrench. This happens twice more, until the woman has three shiny shirtless dudes prowling around her kitchen. Steve smothers a giggle, and Bucky drops his knees to look at him.

"Steven," he says very seriously. "Are you demeaning this great work of cinema?"

Steve bursts out laughing, and he feels the shake of Bucky joining in. They have the TV turned pretty low, barely audible over the rain outside. Bucky's legs are pressed up against his, and Steve is suddenly aware of how close they are, of all the places that they're touching.

"This is pretty dumb," Bucky says, sighing. "Typical Stark."

"Yeah," Steve says awkwardly. On screen, the men start stripping out of their pants. They're all kind of gross and hairy, and way too shiny. Part of him wants to tell Bucky that they don't have to watch it at all. He can't shake the feeling that Bucky seems like he's got something to prove. 

Bucky's watching the screen intently, his expression flickering between boredom and bewilderment, and it takes Steve a few minutes to realize that he's only noticed because he's staring at Bucky instead of watching the movie himself. 

Eventually Bucky turns and catches his eye, and although he looks away, it's not fast enough. He can feel his face starting to get hot, and it doesn't help that all the dudes in the porno now have their dicks out, and one of them is ramming his down the woman's throat. 

"You like this?" Bucky asks in a low, curious voice.

Steve doesn't look at him, but he can feel his face turning red. He shrugs, focusing so hard on the TV that he almost misses Bucky reaching down to adjust himself through his shorts. "Me neither," Bucky mutters. "It's stupid, I'll turn it off." He sits up and reaches for the remote. 

"Wait," Steve says quietly. Bucky's watching him again, and Steve blushes harder. "We might as well finish."

"If you want," Bucky says lightly, sitting back in his seat. 

Steve makes himself keep watching the screen, fighting the urge to turn and look at Bucky instead. Two of the guys are making out now, slow and curious, both jerking off over the woman's back while she blows the third guy. He's a little surprised that Howard has something this...well, _gay_. Probably that's why he gave it to Bucky. 

Mostly Steve's surprised to find that the thing that's really doing it for him is the guys making out. It doesn't last long, and the camera doesn't spend much time on them, but every time they touch he can feel Bucky's eyes on him. Steve doesn't look round: he's scared of seeing Bucky watching him, and even more scared that he won't be, that maybe Steve has imagined it all. 

Also, he's starting to get uncomfortable in his shorts, and if Bucky has noticed then Steve would rather not know about it.

Just as he's thinking that, there's a faint rustle of fabric. Bucky adjusting himself through his clothes again. Except that it doesn't stop, and Steve feels his face get hot again. 

"Itch you can't scratch, Barnes?" Steve says stiffly.

Bucky laughs, sounding self conscious, but he's still touching himself. "If you wanna do it for me, Rogers—"

"That why you asked me to watch this?" Steve mutters. He curls his fingers into his shorts, his hands heavy on his thighs. There's heat rolling in his gut, and Steve can no longer tell if he's turned on or just pissed off. "You get bored of jerking off alone?"

"No, I—" Bucky falters, jerking his hands away from his crotch. "It's just a movie."

Without looking over, Steve reaches across the couch and puts his hand on Bucky's thigh. Bucky gasps, his leg tensing under Steve's fingertips. For a moment, Steve does nothing but let his hand just rest there, then he slides it back, down over the rough denim of Bucky's shorts until he finds the vee of his thighs. Bucky makes an undignified choking noise, pushing down something like a gasp. Steve can feel him quivering: tense, or maybe nervous.

"You want me to?" Steve asks, finally looking around at Bucky. It's only a brief glance: just long enough to meet his eyes and look away again. "I would, you know."

Bucky swallows audibly. "Could we—can I kiss you first?"

Caught by surprise, Steve snorts with laughter. "So you wanna kiss me after all?"

"No, fuck," Bucky says, slapping his hand away. "It was a joke, dumbass.”

Steve giggles and reaches out to grab his arm. “C’mon, if you’re that desperate—”

“Don't do me any favors, Romeo, jeez."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Fuck you," he says, still not sure whether he wants to laugh or punch Bucky in the head. "Like I wanna kiss your stupid robot mouth anyway."

"Hey, I make this look good," Bucky boasts, grinning while he gestures to his braces. He leans over to grab the remote and shuts off the TV . "Alright, that was a bust. You wanna go for a swim?"

"It's raining," Steve says dubiously. 

"Yeah but it's roasting still, and you're not gonna mind the rain if you're already wet, are you?"

Steve shrugs. "Guess not." He gets up and goes to the window. "You sure it's not gonna thunder though?"

"Hmm, maybe," Bucky says thoughtfully. "Maybe just go for a walk."

"Alright, lemme grab my jacket. Mom'll lose her shit if I catch another summer cold."

Bucky groans. "Fuck, I didn't think of that."

"I'm kidding, Buck, I'll be fine—"

"Nope," Bucky says, with an air of finality. "Forget it."

" _Bucky_."

"Nah," Bucky says, kneeling in front of the TV cabinet. "Where's that movie your mom rented? The one we didn’t watch yet? There's still popcorn in the kitchen."

Steve groans. "No more movies, Bucky, c'mon—"

Bucky ignores him, pulling the rental out from under a stack of other tapes. "Oh, shit, you didn’t tell me it was Top Gun!" He glances over his shoulder and pulls a face at Steve's thunderous expression. "C'mon," he wheedles, "Top Gun, Stevie! Look, if you get bored, you can do fuckin’ push ups or whatever, but we’re watching it." 

"I suck at push ups," Steve mutters, but he comes back to the couch anyway. "Fine, but you're making the popcorn."

Bucky _does_ make the popcorn. He doesn't even complain, _and_ he makes it with sugar and salt the way Steve likes it best. Steve can't help feeling a little suspicious. Bucky's rarely this nice to him without a reason. Properly supplied with popcorn and root beer, they settle in to watch the movie. 

When they get to ‘buzz the tower’, Bucky loses his fucking shit, and Steve has to pause the movie because Bucky’s laughing so hard.

“What?” Steve says, scowling. He shakes Bucky by his shoulder. “Hey!”

“You—you’re totally Maverick,” Bucky sniggers.

Steve grins. “Yeah? You think I’d make a good Tom Cruise?”

Bucky shrugs and wipes his eyes. “I dunno, but you definitely make a good reckless asshole.”

“Hey!” Steve says, laughing. He punches Bucky in the shoulder. “At least I’m not Goose.”

“I’m _clearly_ Iceman,” Bucky says, rubbing his shoulder absently. 

“Sure, sure,” Steve says in a soothing voice. He flops sideways to let his weight rest on Bucky, who seems a little softer than he normally does during school semester. Bucky was always prone to plenty of puppy fat before he joined the swim team, and he eats and sleeps so much the rest of the time that he always gets a little squishy around the edges as soon as he stops training. He’s finally lost that chlorine stink he always carries on his skin and hair too, and he smells strange without it, like sweat and sun and something indefinably Bucky that Steve can’t name but is like the scent equivalent of pulling an old warm blanket over himself. 

He yawns loudly, and Bucky just grins and puts an arm around him. It’s no different than the way they are usually, but Bucky’s been so jumpy with him for the past week that Steve feels like he’s getting Bucky back after a fight or something, and he snuggles in closer. 

Despite Bucky reciting almost every line under his breath, and nudging Steve every time there’s a bit he really loves, Steve dozes for a little bit in Bucky’s lap. He opens his eyes when Bucky starts shifting awkwardly, otherwise suspiciously quiet. Steve sits up. The movie is up to the _shower scene_ , and Bucky is quite obviously trying to hide the fact that he’s got a hard on. 

“Bucky?”

“Thought you were gonna sleep through the whole thing," Bucky says lightly. 

Steve frowns. "Gimme your hand," he says in the same tone of voice that he might say 'pass the salt'. Bucky lifts his hand without even questioning it. It takes all his nerve, but Steve covers Bucky's hand with his own and pushes it down to press against Bucky's crotch.

"Uh, Steve?"

Steve shakes his head, still watching the TV. "Shh, it's okay, I'm not gonna touch it." He can kinda feel though that Bucky is hard in his shorts, the way he tentatively curls his fingers around his cock. Steve presses down a little more, making Bucky groan at the pressure. Then he wraps his fingers around Bucky's and starts to move his hand gently up and down, grinding Bucky's palm over his dick. 

"Steve—" Bucky murmurs, quiet and breathless. "Stevie, fuck—can I, can I—"

Before Steve can work out what Bucky wants, he feels Bucky's left hand creep over to touch his knee. Steve sighs and lets his thighs part, reaching for Bucky's hand with his own. Bucky tangles their fingers together and reaches down to cup Steve's prick with both their hands. 

"Oh," Steve gasps, "I didn't think—you want to—?" 

"Is it okay?" Bucky asks quietly. They still don't look at one another.

Steve nods. "Uh huh."

Bucky starts to move his right hand, so Steve moves his left. It's a little awkward, touching himself with his left hand, but he doesn't really notice. Finesse doesn't really seem important, not when Bucky's hand is there too, stroking him shyly through his underwear. 

"Are you—can you do it okay with that hand?" Bucky asks in a soft, breathless voice. 

Steve grimaces. "Not really," he admits, and they both start giggling. 

"C'mere," Bucky says, turning Steve by his shoulder so that they're facing one another. He reaches out with his left hand to cover Steve's right, moving it back to his dick. "Keep going. You can close your eyes if you don't wanna watch me."

Something tells Steve he _should_ close his eyes, but he doesn't really want to. Bucky unfastens his own shorts and Steve does the same, shivering a little when Bucky's zipper scrapes his knuckles. 

"Go on, Stevie," Bucky whispers, holding his gaze. "It'll be good."

Steve gives him a nervous smile, then he rolls his eyes and pushes his fingers into his underwear. It feels so good to touch himself, and when he stifles a moan in his throat, Bucky echoes the sound back to him louder. Steve wraps his thumb and forefinger around his cock and starts to jerk it quickly, but Bucky holds his hand and makes him slow down, squeezes his fingers tighter.

"Bucky, Christ—" Steve gasps. "I—it's too much, I can't—"

"Yeah, you can," Bucky murmurs, watching Steve's dick with rapt attention. He looks kinda dumb; his eyebrows are drawn together in concentration and his tongue is poking out at the corner of his mouth, but the sensation of all of Bucky's attention focused on _him_ is overwhelming. 

Steve realizes suddenly that his other hand is still resting on Bucky's thigh, and that Bucky isn't really touching himself at all. "You too," Steve mumbles, reaching out to stroke Bucky's dick through his underwear with his fingertips. 

Bucky shudders and quickly pushes Steve's hand away. 

"Sorry, sorry," Steve whispers.

"Nah," Bucky says, giving him a rueful smirk. "Um—that almost made me come in my pants, that's all."

Steve flushes with pleasure and an odd sense of pride. "Oh," he says, grinning. "You're so easy, Barnes." 

"Am not," Bucky mutters, biting his lip when Steve guides their fingers together into his underwear. 

"Am."

Bucky groans. "Am not."

" _Am._ "

"Fuck," Bucky whispers, squeezing Steve's fingers tight around himself again. "Just shut up and come already."

Steve laughs breathlessly, but he's not far off. Bucky is still forcing him to jerk off cruelly slowly, neglecting his own pleasure while he dedicates all of his attention to Steve's, to wringing it out of him: patient and inevitable. 

"Buck—" Steve gasps after a minute, when he feels like every single one of his muscles is cinched up tight, and he can't open his eyes because the sight of Bucky watching him so intently is just too much. 

Bucky lets go of his own dick, shaking Steve's hand off so that he can run his fingers through Steve's hair. "C'mon then," he says gently, leaning closer. "Let go, Steve, I've got you—"

Steve tips his head against Bucky's palm with a whimper. "Bucky," he murmurs, his voice breaking. "Buck, I'm—I'm gonna—" 

_Come_ , he thinks, and is too embarrassed to say, even if he could get the words out right now. 

Bucky moves his hand around to cup the back of Steve's neck and pulls him close. He hesitates with their faces a few inches apart. Steve's already shaking, struggling not to come just yet, and Bucky's eyes are heavy and wanting. 

"C'mere," Bucky whispers, before bringing his lips to Steve's and kissing him softly. 

It's enough of a surprise that it pulls Steve back from the edge slightly, but then Bucky moans low in his throat and kisses him more deeply, his fingers stroking through Steve's hair. Steve gives up with a shudder, his mouth going slack against Bucky's while his hips jerk and he comes over both their fingers. Bucky kisses him through it with warm, appreciative noises. He rubs the pad of his thumb just behind Steve's left ear, stroking it gently over his earlobe and down the side of his neck. 

"Gorgeous," he murmurs, kissing Steve's top lip, his cheek, the side of his nose, "fuck that was gorgeous."

Steve lets himself lean against Bucky while he catches his breath. “Way to—buzz the tower,” he gasps.

He can hear the laughter bubble up from Bucky’s stomach, and relishes the sound of Bucky giggling in his ear because it’s normal. It’s them. But then Bucky turns his head and strokes Steve’s hair again; he moves his lips over Steve’s jaw, almost as if he’s measuring it with his mouth. He pauses when he gets to Steve’s chin and glances up, and Steve is struck by how long and dark Bucky’s eyelashes are. The warm breath on his neck is holding him down and he can’t seem to surface; anything intelligent or useful that he could say is buried too deep for him to drag it out. 

And then it’s too late anyway, because Bucky kisses him again. Steve closes his eyes instinctively before he realizes what he’s doing. Then the realization hits him hard, like falling flat on a gym mat. He and Bucky are on his _couch_ ; what they just did is a whole lot more than a drunken kiss during Spin the Bottle. He tries to pull away, but Bucky grabs his hand at the same time and drags it back to his crotch. Fuck, Steve had forgotten that Bucky didn’t get off yet. Bucky rubs against his hand and moans, the sound muffled against Steve’s mouth. 

Steve starts to panic. If he stops now then Bucky will be upset, but if he keeps going, they might fuck things up beyond recognition. For a moment he’s paralyzed by indecision. Unfortunately, it seems that Bucky can read him like a book even when he’s halfway gone. He pulls away from the kiss and stops touching himself. 

“Steve.”

Bucky isn’t looking at him. Steve feels sick. One word and Bucky already sounds like he wants to cry, and Steve has no idea how to make this better _and Bucky won’t look at him_. 

“You don’t wanna do this.”

Steve’s throat feels tight. “No, Bucky, I—”

Bucky turns away, hurriedly tucking himself back in his pants and zipping them up. “It’s okay. Sorry.”

“Buck—” Steve forces himself to swallow. It feels like trying to swallow a brick. “Wait, I just freaked out, it’s fine now.”

“Don’t,” Bucky whispers. He gets up stiffly. “I’m gonna get a glass of water.”

Bucky doesn’t come back for the rest of the movie. At least, Steve gets as far as Goose dying and shuts it off, rubbing his eyes on the sleeve of the sweater he’s borrowed from Bucky. He goes upstairs and brushes his teeth, hesitating outside the firmly shut door of the guest bedroom on the way to his bed.

At first he thinks Bucky must be asleep already, but then he hears a quiet sob, quickly muffled. Steve bites his lip hard and rests his palm on the door. He wants to go in, so badly, but he can't bear the thought of Bucky telling him to go away. Still, he probably deserves that and more.

"Bucky?" He knocks gently. "Buck, can I come in?"

There's no reply, but the sobbing noises cease. Steve hesitates a moment longer, his palm still pressed to the door, then he hears Bucky's footsteps and jerks back quickly as the door opens a few inches. He clearly doesn’t want Steve to see how red his face is, or how raw his eyes and nose look, or the fact that there’s still wetness on his cheeks. Steve wants to sink through the floor, and also give Bucky the biggest hug ever. Mostly he just feels like throwing up. 

"Go to bed, Steve," Bucky says, his voice low and rough. "I don't wanna—"

"I'm sorry," Steve says quickly. "Buck, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

"What for," Bucky replies tonelessly. 

Steve pushes the door open another couple of inches. "I—I panicked, okay? I wasn't—I mean, it was just—"

"Just one of those things," Bucky says, his voice cold and harsh. "It’s done, Steve, I don't wanna talk about it again." He slams the door shut. 

Steve turns his back to the door and leans against it. His legs feel shaky, so he slides down to a crouch, his back still pressed against the door. On the other side, Bucky is crying again, harder this time and still trying to hide it. Thoroughly miserable, Steve presses himself against the door and stays there until he falls asleep. 

 

 

His mom is the one to wake him when she gets home from work around five. Steve jolts awake when she touches his shoulder.

"Easy, baby, it's just me," she says softly. "What're you doing out here? Where's Bucky?"

"Won't talk t'me," Steve mumbles, pushing himself up. "Time is it?"

"It's just after five," his mom says quietly. "C'mon, why don't you get into bed."

Steve lets himself be ushered off to his own room, but by the time he gets settled in bed he's wide awake, and all he can think about is how he's going to make things right with Bucky. He manages to stay in bed for an hour or so, running through scenarios in his head until he thinks he might go crazy. 

When it becomes obvious that he's not getting back to sleep anytime soon, he pulls on a clean pair of underpants and a baggy white undershirt and heads out to the yard. The Nielsens next door have a big line of fir trees along the fence between their house and the Rogers', which means Sarah's flowers don't get any sun in the afternoon, but in the morning Steve can do his stretches in full sun, safe in the knowledge that nobody can see. The last thing he needs is another lecture from Mr Nielsen because Claudia has been watching him rehearse in his underwear. 

It's cold out but the sun is hot on his back as he runs through his usual warm up routine. His back is stiffer than usual from sleeping on the floor, so he spends a little extra time stretching, running through the whole thing twice to help his mind let go. 

His head feels a lot clearer by the time he's finished. It seems to Steve that the best way to fix the whole stupid mess is to go find Bucky and finish what he started last night. He wants badly to touch Bucky again, but after the way Bucky looked at him last night, Steve isn't sure he'll get the chance ever again. He goes upstairs to take a shower, not surprised when he finds that Bucky's bedroom door is still firmly shut.

Despite the fact that it's far too early for Bucky to be awake, Steve feels a surge of guilt. He was the one that started things last night, after all. 

On the other hand, Bucky was the one twisting his arm to watch porn together, and Bucky was the one who made it weird. But then Steve gets distracted by the memory of it; the sensation of Bucky's fingers in his hair; of his hand around Steve's, forcing him to jerk off achingly slow. 

"Fuck," Steve mutters, grabbing his dick and bracing himself against the tiled wall with his other hand. "Bucky, shit—"

He gets off quickly, biting his lip to stop himself from spilling anything else he wouldn’t want Bucky to overhear, and washes up the mess after. 

Steve decides that he'll just have to take his cues from Bucky. It proves harder than expected.

Bucky's eating cinnamon toast crunch when Steve gets downstairs. He must’ve snuck it in himself, or sweet-talked Sarah, because she never lets Steve eat anything that sugary for breakfast.

"Hey, you okay?" Steve asks, taking the crappy chair by the window. Bucky already got out an extra bowl, so Steve reaches for the cereal box. "Buck?"

Bucky just shrugs and goes on crunching his cereal. 

Steve sighs. “What, now you’re not speaking to me? I said I was sorry.”

“I’m eating,” Bucky says through his mouthful. 

“Right, because _that_ always stops you,” Steve mutters. “Pass the milk.”

Bucky just snorts and shakes his head. Steve knows it’s a bad sign, that he’s gotta rein it in, but it only makes him more pissed at Bucky.

“Dammit, Buck,” he snarls, standing up in his seat and reaching across to grab the milk carton. He tries to pour it on his cereal, but apparently it’s not a good idea to pour milk angrily, because it sloshes out and spills across the table. Steve groans. “ _Fuck_.”

“Bee in your bonnet, Rogers?” Bucky asks calmly, before eating another spoonful of cereal. 

Steve glares at him. “Whatever.”

Bucky gets to his feet and grabs a cloth to mop up the spilled milk. Steve watches him do it, but Bucky doesn’t look at him once. When he’s finished, Bucky puts the cloth and his empty bowl in the sink, and leans against the counter. 

“Are you gonna eat that?”

“Why, still hungry?”

“Nah,” Bucky says, shaking his head. “Your mom wants us to dig out those tree stumps. You should eat something.”

Steve frowns. “Oh.”

Bucky pushes himself off from the counter. “I’m gonna get some old clothes.”

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, pushing at his cereal awkwardly with his spoon. “Okay.” He picks up his spoon, but lets it fall back into the bowl again. “Hey, Bucky?”

“What,” Bucky says, pausing in the doorway. He glances back over his shoulder when Steve says nothing. “What is it?”

Steve sighs. “I—I’m sorry—”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Bucky interrupts. “It happened. End of story.”

 

 

Almost three days go past in which Bucky barely says a word to him. He yells at Steve for forgetting sun lotion on the first day, but disappears for the entire afternoon to hang out with his buddies on the swim team. Normally Steve would be invited too. On the second day they’re supposed to hang out at Angie’s place, but Bucky complains for two hours straight (“We should go to the park”; “No, the skate park, the regular park sucks”; “The skate park is full of assholes, let’s just get ice cream”), until everyone is sick of his shit and Peggy and Angie leave in protest to go watch Thelma and Louise. 

Steve’s mom is finally off nights, but that just means that she’s there to witness his and Bucky’s strained friendship first hand. Bucky spends most of the third day helping her fetch groceries and painting the fence in the front yard, begging for jobs even though Sarah keeps insisting that he go and enjoy his free time. 

“I know it seems a long time, but you boys only have a few weeks to spend together,” she tells Bucky when he’s done with the first coat of paint. Steve’s not really listening, but he can hear them from the porch, where he’s rereading Bucky’s X-Men comics. “It’ll be over before you know it, you should both be making the most of it.”

“Really, I’d rather be busy,” Bucky says quietly.

Sarah looks over and catches Steve’s eye. He just shrugs and goes back to his comic, and she sighs. "Well, if you’re that keen, I guess you can start on the fence out back.”

When Bucky has gone, carefully avoiding any eye contact with Steve, Sarah comes over and sits next to him.

“Don’t,” Steve says, staring at a page without really seeing it.

She sighs again and reaches to put her arm around his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. I f—I messed everything up.”

“Have you tried—”

“ _Yes_ , I’ve tried talking to him,” Steve snaps, pulling away. “God, I’ve tried, okay? I thought he wanted—but that just made it _worse_ , and now I don’t know—”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Sarah puts her arms around him again gently, and Steve realizes that he’s starting to hyperventilate, practically on the brink of tears. 

Steve shudders and drops the comic so that he can hug her back, and buries his face against her shoulder. “He—he—h—hates me,” Steve gasps, shaking with the effort of trying not to cry. 

Sarah shushes him gently and rubs his back with her palm. “No, baby, no, he doesn’t hate you.”

“You think so?” Steve sniffs loudly.

“I _know_ so.”

Steve pulls back, rubbing his face on his sleeve. “Pretty dumb, huh?” he mumbles, looking away.

Sarah smiles as she pushes his hair back from his forehead. “It’s not just about you two being friends, is it?” Steve glances up at her, surprised and guilty, and she laughs. “It’s okay, baby, I know you don’t wanna tell _me_ about that. Why don’t you go and call Peggy? 

“Okay,” Steve mumbles, smiling just a little. “She’s gonna make fun of me.”

“Maybe that’s what you need,” Sarah says, leaning over to kiss his forehead before getting to her feet. “Well, I’m going to get dinner started.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Love you, baby.”

“Love you too.”

Steve sits there for a little longer after Sarah goes into the house. He’s trying to think what he’ll say to Peggy, but all he can really think of that matters is one question. He should’ve asked his mom maybe, but she’s right that it’s strange to talk to her about Bucky like that when he’s practically her adopted son. Steve wonders how she feels about maybe having not just one gay son, but two. 

Frowning, Steve practises saying the words out loud. “Mom, I think I’m gay.”

It doesn’t sound right. He tries again. “Buck, I’m gay.”

Steve groans. “God, fuck this.” 

It takes him three tries to call Peggy without immediately hanging up, but he manages it at last.

“ _What_?” she says when she answers, sounding harrassed.

“Uh, hey, Peg. It’s me.”

Peggy’s annoyance quells slightly. “Oh, hello darling. Was that you that kept ringing and then hanging up?”

“Oh, um. Yeah, sorry.”

“What the bloody hell for?”

Steve winces. “Sorry, I just—I wanna ask you something.”

“What is it?” Peggy asks, sounding concerned and not the slightest bit annoyed anymore. 

“How do I know if I’m gay?”

There’s a pause, then Peggy lets out a long breath. “Well, I have to say, I was sort of waiting for that.”

“Uh, you were?”

“You’re definitely into guys, if that helps. I mean, I’m fairly sure you’re into girls too, but only you’d know really.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Peggy. Of course I am.”

“Okay, so you’re bi.”

“But how do you _know_ I like guys?”

“Okay, here we go. Answer honestly or hang up. And give me your first answer, don’t think about it too hard, okay?”

Steve sighs. “Fine, fine.”

“Great,” Peggy says, sounding pleased with herself. “Now, let’s see. What’s your favorite movie?”

“Top Gun.”

Peggy sniggers. “What’s your favorite class?”

“Art.”

“Should we have the death penalty?”

“Hell no.”

“Do you wanna make out with Bucky?”

“Well, yeah, the first time didn’t really count—” Steve trails off, realizing what he’s said. “Uh. Fuck.”

Peggy makes a scandalized sound. “Oh my god, you finally snogged him?”

Steve grimaces. “Ugh, I hate that word.”

“It just means you made out, you fucking pleb. Did you or not?”

“Uh, yeah, kinda,” Steve mutters, flushing. “That—that really wasn’t what I was gonna talk about.”

Peggy makes an agreeable noise, and Steve sighs.

“Fine. Things—didn’t go so well. He’s basically not speaking to me. Except he is, but—I dunno, it’s different.” He takes a shuddering breath, wincing when he feels his eyes fill with tears. “I’m pretty sure I fucked everything up, Peg.”

“Oh, Steve,” Peggy says soothingly. “Sweetheart, I’m sure you didn’t fuck it up. Oh, dear. Do you want me to come over?”

Steve shakes his head and digs his knuckles into his eye socket to hold back the burning. “No,” he says thickly. “No, I—I—”

“Steve,” Peggy says very gently, sounding sad. “It’s okay, sweetie, it’ll be okay. Bucky’s crazy about you, you know that?”

“Sorry,” Steve gasps, smothering a hiccupy sob. “I’m sorry, I—”

Peggy shushes him. “It’s okay, sweetie, you cry as much as you need to.”

“He—he thinks I don’t like him,” Steve says in an awkward, hitching voice. “It’s my fault, because I—I did that and then I freaked out and I—fuck, I’m such an asshole, no wonder he doesn’t wanna talk to me.”

“Calm down,” Peggy says sternly. “No good’s going to come of that.”

“But—”

“No, Steve, stop talking yourself down like that. You’re going to deal with this like a grownup, alright?”

Steve takes a deep breath. “Alright.”

"Good. Go find him and suck his dick.”

“Peggy!”

“Trust me. It’ll make you feel better, and he’ll fucking love it.”

Steve groans. “Oh my god, how is that handling it like an adult?”

“Well, when you’re done, you tell him that you wanna go to prom and get married and have his babies, or whatever it is you want to do. Fisting, rubber suits, you—”

“Hanging up now,” Steve says quickly. 

“Remember, no teeth!” 

"You're last person I'm taking blowjob advice from, Carter."

Steve hangs up and makes a mental note to take Peggy off his Christmas list. 

He heads out into the yard, which is dusty and hazy in the sunset. Bucky is dozing in the hammock at the other end of the yard, his arm flung up over his face and his paint-stained shirt rucked to reveal the pale freckled skin of his belly and the dark finger of hair that points down into his underwear. Steve can take the hint. He strokes it gently with one finger and feels the muscles in Bucky’s stomach tense. He waits, but Bucky doesn’t open his eyes, and he moves his hand down, brushing his palm very lightly over Bucky’s pants, searching for the shape of his dick. He presses down just a little and feels it surge up against his hand. Bucky breathes out, lips parting, and Steve wants nothing more than to kiss him. He reaches over to grab the far edge of the hammock and the ropes above Bucky’s head, and pulls himself up into Bucky’s lap.

“Hey,” Bucky mumbles sleepily, moving his arm away from his face. “What’re you doin’?”

“Somethin' smart for a change,” Steve says, and leans down to kiss him. 

“Stevie,” Bucky whispers against his mouth. His fingers slip up under Steve’s t-shirt and touch the small of his back. There’s no room to move, barely room to breathe, but they can stay that way for a couple of minutes. Or they could, but Bucky turns away. “Don’t,” he says in a small, cold voice. “Don’t keep doing this.”

Steve cups his hands around Bucky’s face. “If you don’t want this, then tell me,” he says in a shaky voice. “Tell me and I’ll stop, but—but _I_ want this. I want _you_ , Buck.”

Bucky stares up at him doubtfully. “Why now?”

“Aw, jeez,” Steve mumbles, glancing down. His gaze catches on Bucky’s collarbone; his t-shirt is pulled to one side, and Steve can see the dip of his throat, golden and freckled. “I, uh—guess it took me a little longer than it should to realize what I wanted. And the other night—Buck, I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. It was just a little too much too fast, yeah?” 

Bucky nods tightly. “Okay, I get that.”

Steve gives him a self-deprecating smile. “I’m just clueless. Fuck, even my mom knew I wanted to jump you before I did.”

Bucky finally smiles back, his face splitting in a grin. “Yeah, that’s pretty fucked up.”

Steve laughs at himself, then reaches up to brush Bucky’s hair to one side. “Shit, don’t call me a sap, but I missed your smile.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky says, laughing. He bites his lip to hide his braces, but the smile breaks through anyway. “You _are_ a fucking sap, Rogers.”

“Just kiss me already, okay?”

Bucky grins fit to burst. “My fuckin’ pleasure.”

For the first time, Steve lets himself kiss Bucky without worrying about anything else. His lips are soft and hot and his tongue still tastes a little like bubblegum. Steve’s tongue touches Bucky’s braces, and he feels Bucky start to pull away.

“Are you sure?” he whispers, blinking up at Steve. 

Steve touches Bucky’s bottom lip with his thumb, parting his mouth slightly. “Did you know,” he whispers, trying to ignore his stomach turning somersaults, “that I think your braces are really cute?”

“Oh my god,” Bucky moans, covering his face with both hands. “Steve, Jesus, I’m gonna die of embarrassment, you asshole.”

Grinning at his blush, Steve kisses the backs of Bucky’s hands; his wrists, his knuckles, then he slowly pries them away from Bucky’s face so he can kiss that too. “Just—” he murmurs between kisses. “Just shut up. I’m an idiot, it’s on the record.” He captures Bucky’s mouth with his own and kisses him softly. “Let’s move on to the fun part already.”

Sighing softly, Bucky brings their mouths together for real. His hands slip up under Steve’s t-shirt again, fingers spreading across his back as he licks into Steve’s mouth curiously. Steve moans contentedly, settling his weight into Bucky and feeling the arm tighten around his waist. His stomach is soaring, his breath coming fast. He’s made out, but not like _this_. Steve’s heard that girls kiss softer than boys but Bucky’s mouth is so plush and gentle that he can’t imagine how it could be true. 

It feels like they've been making out for hours when Bucky moves suddenly to roll him off, and Steve realizes that his mom is calling them from the house. 

"Aw, shit," Steve mutters, pressing his forehead against Bucky's. The world suddenly narrows back in around them, and he’s struck with a mixture of terror and pride at the thought of _telling people_ that he kissed Bucky. That he’s gonna do it again. "She's _never_ gonna let me hear the end of this."

Bucky smiles and strokes the back of Steve’s neck. "That's gonna be awkward if we break up."

Steve lifts his head. "Are we dating?"

"You've been my boyfriend for three years, Rogers, you're just too stupid to notice."

“Oh my god,” Steve splutters, grinning as he sits up and socks Bucky in the arm. “You might’ve told me sooner.”

Bucky starts cackling, and Steve makes a valiant effort to throw him out of the hammock. It just ends up with the two of them entangled again, flushed and breathing hard, but this time Steve doesn’t have to pull away or write it off as weird. This time, he ignores his mom yelling for them, and he leans in to kiss Bucky Barnes again.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man. Although it's changed a lot since then, this is actually one of the first things I started writing in this fandom, over a year ago! 
> 
> With luck and time, I'm hoping to write a sequel, but don't hold me to that! 
> 
> If you enjoyed this, you can reblog it [ here on tumblr](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/post/128667006625/communism-was-just-a-red-herring-notallbees)


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